


remedy

by dizzy



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Baz gets sick and Simon has no idea what to do.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97
Collections: Snowbaz Sweethearts Fic Exchange 2021





	remedy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RosebudBasilton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosebudBasilton/gifts).



> I know you wanted heavy angst so I hope this works - I just can't bring myself to do anything too unhappy but they certainly go through it in this! It is canon divergent, though. :D

SIMON

Lately the strangest thing is happening to Simon Snow. It's something he has no defenses for, something he can't even begin to wrap his mind around. He's not the most clever sort on the best of days, though, so maybe that shouldn't be a surprise. 

It's just... he's happy. Right now, in this stretch of days that sometimes he fears are only a sneaky moment playing with his mind, he's happy. 

Penny knows. Agatha knows, he's sure, though they haven't talked. Even his teachers know, though often in the context of chiding him for being unable to focus. The lunch lady knows because she said his smile earned him extra mash. The Mage doesn't know, and that's how it'll stay. The amount of information people have is on a sliding scale, but even those who are completely clueless can’t argue the end result. 

Baz knows. Baz knows better than anyone. 

Simon's footsteps grow more rapid until he's halfway to a run approaching Mummer's House. He's anticipating what the after-dinner hours of the day will hold when he pushes the door open. Baz is normally sat at his desk working on his homework by now, since it's not a football practice day. 

But he's not at his desk. He's not even in the room. 

Simon frowns. Something's not right. 

BAZ

Something’s not right. 

Baz can tell the moment he finishes draining the rat. The taste on his tongue is sour and burns at his throat going down. It’s not as though rodents are ever pleasing to his palate, but it’s always satisfying. 

This isn’t satisfying. He follows it with another but by the time he’s finished and spelled his mess away, his limbs are starting to feel heavy in a way they haven’t ever before. 

Maybe it was old. Maybe it was near death anyway. But it shouldn’t matter, should it? Does it? 

He wouldn’t know if it did, if there are secret rules as to what a vampire can or can’t drain. His stomach churns and he’s not sure if it’s the anxiety or whatever illness is falling over him. 

He makes it just out of the catacombs when he realizes he’s breathing too heavily. He sits for a moment and catches his breath. He’s sweating, cold and clammy against the back of his neck and his armpits. He feels like he’s going to be ill, but he hasn’t even had dinner. He and Simon have that together in their room lately. 

Simon. He’ll be back soon, maybe already is. Hunting never takes this long for Baz. Will he be worried? That’s still a new concept, Simon Snow worrying about him. He’s spent too many years of his life operating under the assumption that Simon Snow was more interested in doing him harm than anything else. 

As it turns out, though, Simon Snow is a man of many layers, and some of those layers involve him wanting to do things with Baz that don’t involve any loss of life. That’s the thought that has him back up on his feet walking at a slow, uneven pace toward the little room atop a tower he calls home when he’s here. 

SIMON

“Where the bloody hell were you?” Simon bursts out with the words as soon as the door opens. He’s half alarmed and half irritated until he gets a look at the shape Baz is in, and everything else floods away under a wave of alarm. “Baz?” 

Baz looks like he’s barely alive. He is barely alive, Simon supposes, but he never looks it quite like this. 

Baz just shakes his head. He’s clinging to the door frame with one hand and shuts his eyes. Simon’s walking over to him out of instinct more than anything else, catching Baz just as he lurches forward. 

Simon’s arms are the only thing keeping him up. Simon is terrified, voice shaking as he says, “What happened? Was it the Humdrum?” 

“No,” Baz says, then lets Simon shuffle him to the bed. “I’m poorly.” 

“I can tell that,” Simon says. He helps Baz lie back against the pillow. He can see the sweat beading on Baz’s forehead now. “You don’t get poorly, though. You’re a - you just don’t.” 

Baz smiles faintly. “I’m a what, Snow?” 

“Shut up,” Simon chides with fondness. They’re past that point where all Simon could obsess over was making sure the world knew about Baz and his vampirism. Now Simon keeps that secret just as well as anyone else in the small circle of people who know. 

“I fed,” Baz says. “And something was wrong with one of the rats.” 

Simon has to work not to grimace. He’s never seen Baz eating like that - a fresh catch - and he’s still getting used to the idea of it. 

He’s not sure Baz would notice even if he did pull a face right now, though. Baz’s skin is turning a sickly green color, almost translucent. “Snow-'' He's suddenly scrabbling at Simon’s arm with a sluggish urgency. “I’m going to sick.” 

“What?” Simon’s extremely alarmed now. He helps Baz up and to the toilet just in time. 

BAZ

Baz kneels, breathing heavily, the taste of blood rancid in his mouth in a way it never usually is. He can hear Simon asking questions, but his mind is focused too much on what’s happening in his body. 

“Baz? Baz, just talk to me-” Simon blabbers. “What should I do?” 

Baz manages to look at him helplessly before he has to look away again, guts lurching. 

When he can pause again to catch his breath, Simon’s walked away. 

His miserable mind thinks the worst. Simon’s disgusted with him. Simon can’t be bothered taking care of this. Simon’s realizing what a monster Baz is, because what’s pooled in the toilet bowl isn’t even proper sick; it’s red and thick and smells of iron. 

He starts to cry before he can even stop himself, partially from being sick and partially just from the misery he feels all over his body. He’s sure he must have been poorly as a child, probably made messes his mum had to clean up. She probably held him and comforted him in his arms and that makes him cry even harder, because he can’t remember it. He has no recollection of ever feeling this way. 

But he does remember his mum holding him and he would like to bury his face in her shoulder right now, just to not feel so alone. 

Then - then he isn’t alone anymore. Simon’s back and beside him and he really didn’t expect that at all. There’s something cool and damp pressing against his forehead. It feels good and he turns into it with a needy little noise when it goes away. 

The cool touch comes back, along with Simon’s hands pushing his hair back. “Come on,” Simon says. “Sit back and you can rinse your mouth out. I brought you some other clothes to wear, too. You’ve sweated through what you’ve got on.” 

He takes the cup from Simon and rinses his mouth out. It’s pale pink when he spits into the bowl this time. It almost makes him queasy again, but his body is spent. There’s nothing else for his system to try and rid him of. 

“Thank you,” he says, then adds, “I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Simon responds. “Did you?”

Simon sounds so genuine and sincere that if Baz had the energy to kiss him right now, he would. Not that he’d actually want to put Simon through that.”No.” 

“Then you’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Do you think you can get back into bed?” 

“I want to brush my teeth,” Baz says. 

Simon keeps helping him up as he does that. It’s not as long as good hygienic habits would dictate, but it does the job of making his mouth taste better and making him feel better. 

After that he lets Simon help him to the bed and lie him down. “Thank you,” he says, eyes closed because he simply doesn’t have the energy to keep them open even a moment longer. 

SIMON

Simon is, as the lads in the care home would say, proper bricking it right now. 

Baz is sick. Baz doesn’t get sick! Baz is a vampire. Vampires don’t get sick.

Except this one that’s stretched out on his bed in manky clothes that are damp from sweat. It can’t be comfortable, Simon thinks, and that’s the only reason he nudges Baz again. “Can you strip off?” 

Baz almost - almost - smiles. “Not now, Snow.” 

Simon laughs. At least Baz is still in there somewhere, despite feeling like shit. “Trust me, your knob is off limits right now. I just want to help you get those clothes off and put some new ones on.” 

Baz doesn’t seem like he really wants to, but he sits up and more or less just lets Simon pull the shirt over his head. Simon’s face does go a bit pink when Baz pushes down his pants and trousers at the same time but given that Baz is half conscious at best, fooling around really isn’t anywhere on his mind. 

“Thank you,” Baz says. 

“Can you get under your duvet?” Simon asks. He hasn’t got a whole lot of experience with what people need when they’re poorly, but he knows a clean kit must feel better than a sweaty one and that being tucked into bed is always a nice thing.

“Stay?” Baz asks. 

“Yeah,” Simon says. 

The truth is that he wouldn’t think of leaving for anything. Something’s wrong with Baz and he has no idea what it is and he feels terrified and alone;like if he takes his eyes off of his boyfriend he might just disappear in a puff of dust and ash. 

Not that vampires really do that, right? 

Simon doesn’t think so. But he doesn’t know, and that’s the scary part. He doesn’t know a goddamn thing about Baz, the person he cares for most in this whole bloody world except for maybe Penny (and that’s a tie, he’d wager) and it’s never bothered him before, but right now it’s absolutely petrifying.

He starts to pet his hand through Baz’s hair just because he knows that Baz likes that, and settles in to watch Baz sleep. 

BAZ

When Baz wakes up, he feels better but only marginally so. 

“Snow?” he asks. His voice is raspy, his throat irritated. 

Simon jumps. “You’re awake!” 

“Yeah,” Baz says. 

“How do you feel?” 

Baz presses his face into the pillow. “Like shite.” 

“Oh.” Simon sounds disappointed. “I was hoping you’d be better once you had a nap.” 

“I am,” Baz says. “A bit. But still not good.” 

“So you’re not, you know…” Simon pauses. “Dying?”

“No,” Baz says, because his strongest instinct is to chase the tremor from Simon’s voice. Simon Snow isn’t supposed to sound scared like that. It goes against the very nature of everything in this world. But he also needs to be honest so he follows it with a soft, “I don’t know.” 

“What happened?” Simon asks. 

“I don’t know that either,” Baz says. “I fed like normal and then suddenly I felt awful.” 

“Fed like normal?” Simon asks. 

“Yeah.” Baz hates having to say this. He hates making it a reality between them, though they obviously both know. “Just rats, as always. Down in the catacombs.” 

“Do you think someone spelled you while you were down there?” Simon asks. 

Baz thinks about it. “No,” he finally says. “I don’t think so. My senses are keen, I’d have heard them. And I don’t… I don’t feel the magic.” 

Simon seems to know what he means. “I wish I were better at all of this. Something’s wrong with you and I’m bloody useless.” 

“No you aren’t,” Baz says. He sits up, determined despite the fatigue pulling hard at him. “I mean, you are at most things, but not at this.” 

“Oi,” Simon says. “I just mean… Penny would at least know what to look up. Can I ask her?” 

“No,” Baz says. It’s still strange enough with Simon Snow knowing all of his secrets. He isn’t read to open the gates to trusting people he doesn’t have a vested interest in snogging. 

“Then who?” Simon sounds desperate. “What if you get worse? What do I do?” 

Baz looks up at the ceiling. He doesn’t have an answer here. 

Or does he? 

“Simon,” he says, reaching for Simon’s arm to grip it weakly. “Get my mobile.” 

SIMON

Baz is ringing his aunt. 

He’s mentioned her a few times. He’s close to her, he says - closer than he is to his dad or step mum at least, so it makes sense that he’d ring her. 

Simon is glad that Baz has at least one family member he can count on. She must already know the truth about him, based on the lack of any sort of shocked reaction to him saying he’s eaten something that’s making him sick. 

He actually manages to sound like normal Baz for half the call. It’s only when she says she doesn’t have a fucking idea what makes a vampire sick that he starts to break. 

Simon hates it. He hates watching Baz’s expression crumble into itself. He can’t hear what Baz’s aunt is saying but he can see a sudden sheen to Baz’s eyes. 

“Can you just…” Baz’s voice doesn’t waver. Simon doesn’t know how he manages to still sound so put together. “Can you- yeah, of course. I know you will. No, don’t tell my father - don’t. Not yet. Yes, if I get worse - yes. Simon will ring you if I can’t. He’s… no, I’m not alone. He’s here. No, you cannot.” 

He listens to her for a few more seconds and then says a quiet, “Thank you. I will.” 

Simon takes the phone from him. “What did she say?” 

“She doesn’t know anything,” Baz says. “But she’s going to look into it.” 

“Do you think she can figure something out?” 

Baz shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe. She’s clever and determined and she always protects her family.” 

“Good,” Simon says, passion in his voice. “You deserve protecting.” 

Baz looks like the phone call has sapped all his energy, but he still smiles in a way that makes Simon’s heart do nice things. “You protect me.” 

“Yeah,” Simon says. “I do.” 

Baz’s eyes close. “I feel wretched.” 

“Can I get you anything?” Simon asks. 

“Water,” Baz says. “My throat hurts.” 

Simon is glad to have a purpose, busying himself getting a cup of water and bringing it back to the bed. Baz looks worse again already, his cheeks sunken in more than normal and his hair a riot in a way Baz would normally never allow. 

It stirs a feeling inside of Simon that he’s not used to at all. It feels big and fierce and soft and protective and so much more than his heart can contain. 

“Fiona will find an answer,” Simon says, determined. “And if she doesn’t by morning or if you get any worse, I’m going to talk to Penny, Penny can make anything better.” 

Baz manages to roll his eyes, taking the glass of water from Simon and sipping it before he responds. “You know Bunce isn’t a superhero, don’t you?” 

“Sure she is,” Simon says. He settles onto the bed beside Baz. He’s not planning on going anywhere. “Magic is basically like a super power when you know how to use it right, and Pen does. You do, too.” 

Baz rests his head on Simon’s shoulder. “I’m not, but I’ll allow you to continue thinking so.” 

“You’ll allow it, will you?” Simon smiles, and kisses the top of Baz’s head. It’s not the sort of thing he’d normally do - or even if he did, Baz would absolutely take the piss - but right now that feeling is thrumming hard in his chest and it demands the words come out of his mouth. 

BAZ

Baz sleeps for a long time. 

He dreams in ways he almost never does.

Once he wakes up convinced he’s on fire. He can feel the flames licking at his skin and he thrashes around. Simon’s voice almost pierces the veil of fogginess but not entirely, not until after Simon’s got a cold cloth on his face and he’s managed to spell the fever down. 

He sleeps again after that without regaining coherence, only drifting in to feel the trickle of much-needed moisture between his lips, then again a few hours later to a gentle shaking. 

“What-” He gasps. 

“You weren’t breathing,” Simon says. “Even more than normal.” 

“I’m fine.” Baz tries to roll over but the sheets are tangled in his limbs. “What time is it?” 

“Almost morning,” Simon says. “Half four.” 

Baz feels so impossibly exhausted. “Have you slept?” 

“Fuck you,” Simon says. “Haven’t taken my eyes off you.” 

Simon sounds frightened. Baz reaches out and puts a hand on his arm. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not,” Simon says. “You were saying all sorts of bloody weird things while you slept and you kept saying it hurt and you… you wanted your mum. Baz, I’m scared.” 

“Has Fiona rung?” 

“No,” Simon says. 

“Let’s rest just a bit more.” Baz does want Simon calm, but mostly he just isn’t sure how long he can keep his eyes open for. “We’ll ring her in the morning.” 

SIMON

They don’t have to ring Fiona. At just past six in the morning, there’s a knock at their door. 

It certainly isn’t how Simon imagined himself meeting a member of Baz’s family for the first time, but when he opens the door to their room he finds himself standing face to face with a woman that could only be Baz’s aunt. 

“Fiona?” he asks. 

She doesn’t answer, just pushes past him to put her eyes on the shivering lump of Baz currently curled up on Simon’s bed, where they’d moved given how sodden with sweat Baz’s own was. 

“You’re a sight,” she says, clearly trying for humor though her eyes look wide and shocked. 

“Did you find out what’s wrong with him?” Simon demands. 

Her eyes cut to him and she nearly snarls, “Yes, and if I find out you’re the one responsible, Mage’s Heir-” 

“Fiona,” Baz says. He manages to sound stern even through his weakness. “Simon didn’t hurt me. But someone did?” 

“I asked N- I asked around. Most likely suspect is colloidal silver,” she says. “Normals use it for medical treatments, apparently, gets into the bloodstream. Helps them, knocks a vamp down to his knees.” 

“That sounds accurate,” Baz says. “What’s the cure?” 

“Push it on through,” she says, shrugging her black leather jacket off. “Fresh blood. Human’s the best bet.” 

Simon watches as Baz’s face goes stricken. “I’m not biting a human.” 

“You’re biting me,” she says, thrusting her arm out. “Safe as houses. We just need enough to clear your system up.” 

“No.” Baz shakes his head sharply. “I’d rather fucking die.” 

That propels Simon into action. “No you won’t,” he says. “And you won’t bite her. If you’re biting anyone, it’s me.” 

Two pairs of eyes land on him, stunned. “This is a family matter,” Fiona says. 

“Yeah, and I reckon I’m about as good as family to Baz.” Simon glances over at Baz. “I’m younger. I’ll recover faster.” 

“Won’t be nothing to recover from,” Fiona says. 

“I’m not biting either of you,” Baz interrupts. “I won’t have the death of my aunt or my boyfriend on my hands.” 

“Alright, boyo,” Fiona says. “We’re having a nice long talk about that later. But you need to get this through your stubborn Pitch head, alright? Taking a drink or two to heal you up won’t kill either one of us. I’ve got that on truthful terms from a bloodsucker just the same as you.” 

“Really?” Baz asks. 

“Good then.” Simon steps forward and holds his own arm out. “Do it, Baz. Please.” 

Baz looks between them, wild eyed,sweat beading his hairline. He finally reaches up and grasps Simon’s wrist, fangs sliding down. “I shouldn’t do this.” 

“Just want you better,” Simon whispers, trying to pretend no one else is in the room with them. 

BAZ

It helps. Baz can feel it help as soon as he takes the first swallow. 

It’s so much more than rodents ever are. It’s like his entire body is singing with the joy of it. Simon tastes vibrant, buttery and luscious, like a gourmet feast. Baz makes a needy noise as he swallows again, then a third time, but sense starts to come back to him and he retracts his fangs and pulls away. 

Simon is staring at him, pupils blown. He doesn’t seem afraid. Baz knows that look, and it’s not fear. 

“How is it?” Fiona asks. 

“It’s… good.” Baz leans back. “I feel better. Not well, but better.” 

It’s the actual truth. The world just seems a bit clearer than it was a few minutes ago. Even his heartbeat feels like it has more resonance to it. 

“We’ll do it again in a few hours,” Simon says. 

Fiona nods. “Best do that. And skive off classes today. Rest yourself.” 

Simon answers first. “I’ll make sure he does.” 

Part of Baz wants to argue that they’re not his carers, but he looks back and forth between them and maybe he’s blood-drunk or still just loopy from how sick he’s been but he feels warm at the sight of his two favorite people standing over him, protecting him. 

Once Fiona’s left, Simon sits down by Baz. “I’m going to get us some breakfast, and then come back. I’ll tell them you’re poorly and I need to bring you food.” 

“Thanks,” Baz says. “Wait-” 

He takes Simon’s arm and turns it over. The bite is barely a set of pinpricks against the skin one. One blends almost perfectly in with a freckle. 

“It’s fine,” Simon says. “I’m fine. It was… well, we’ll talk about it later, you need food now.” 

“ _You_ need food,” Baz teases. “But thank you, Simon.” 

“Any time.” Simon leans down and presses a kiss to Baz’s mouth. “I liked playing nurse for you.” 

“Kinky,” Baz says, smirking. 

“Oh, you are feeling better.” Simon laughs and takes a step back. “Alright, that’s on the list, too.” 

Baz watches Simon walk out and then sinks back into the pillows. The fear of sickness, the fear of the unknown, the fear that he’s about to die is draining from his system, leaving him giddy and also quite sleepy again. 

He’s sure Simon will wake him up soon to eat, but for now, he might as well take advantage of this day off to recover with another nap.

**Author's Note:**

> all my valentine roses to waveydnp for beta reading <3


End file.
